


1. ring

by wollfgang



Series: Lucitober Challenge [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 13:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: Part of the Lucitober ChallengeA nip down to Hell is required to draw out some Infernal steel and to choose a stone from his treasury. The forges down Below are the only ones hot enough to reach the melting points for each metal, hot enough he has to wear his devil skin, as he carefully melts and mixes, molds and pours. He inlays the stone, one collected on one of his many sojourns to earth, and sets it. It glitters back at him, clear and mesmerizing. Heaven, Hell, and Earth. It's perfect.1/31





	1. ring

Lucifer never asks Azrael where or how she acquired it after she agreed to his request, a small amount of Celestial gold. He's sure he doesn't want to know. The brat probably chipped out a piece of road. She doesn't ask him why he wants it, though her dark eyes are knowing.

A few weeks later he cites a work trip to Chloe. Not a lie, not quite a bluff, even as guilt pricks at his conscience. A nip down to Hell is required to draw out some Infernal steel and to choose a stone from his treasury. The forges down Below are the only ones hot enough to reach the melting points for each metal, hot enough he has to wear his devil skin, as he carefully melts and mixes, molds and pours. He inlays the stone, one collected on one of his many sojourns to earth, and sets it. It glitters back at him, clear and mesmerizing. Heaven, Hell, and Earth. It's perfect.

And now it rests against his heart, separated by the lining of his jacket. It feels remarkably heavy, in his breast pocket, even though he knows it's not. It's light, in more than one sense. He's waiting for the right time. Sometimes he _thinks_ it's the perfect moment, his lungs fill with air to carry the question, the most important question he's ever asked...only for something to happen; a phone call or Trixie or a case or any myriad of other distractions.

Then it's taken out of his hands. They're on a case, a serial arsonist, who has set his house ablaze in an attempt to flee. Their suspect’s young son is trapped on the upper floor. The firemen will not arrive in time. Chloe is close, close enough that it will hurt, but it doesn't matter when he can heal from it where another wouldn't. Lucifer kisses her, hard and too brief, and sprints into the house.

The smoke is thick and already his lungs burn. He lets his devil form shift forward, the flames become less bright, the fumes less choking. His skin still burns, but it's hard to tell amidst the red, charred flesh. He takes the stairs two at a time, hoping they will bear his weight and attempts to locate the child.

He weaves his head back and forth, trying to catch the smallest of sounds and—there, a sniffle. It requires him breaking down a door, but there's the boy, soot covered and frightened. He releases his hellskin and scoops him up, tucking the child underneath his jacket. He begins heading down, but the fire has eaten away at the wood so that they crashed through. The boy screams and something sharp punctures Lucifer's side. A large splinter of wood sticks out below his ribs, thankfully on the other side from where he cradles his cargo.

He gets to his feet with gritted teeth and sprints the rest of the way out. Paramedics and firemen swarm them. Lucifer manages to pass the boy off and he catches sight of a white faced Chloe heading their way before his vision spots and he feels his knees hit the ground.

He wakes up in the hospital.

His breath rasps a bit painfully, and it takes his eyes a while to focus, but Chloe's face swims into view. Her eyes are wet. Her hands grip one of his, white knuckled. Clean, thick bandages wrap around his arms, his side.

"Detective," he says, hoarse.

"You idiot," she replies.

He grins, lopsided, at that. He has no rebuttal, but there's no need for one, as she leans forward to steal what little breath he has, her mouth somehow both bruising and tender as she kisses him. She pulls back just enough to brace her forehead against his.

"Yes," she says. But not as an exhalation of pleasure or relief, as an answer. Firm. Final.

"Yes?" he asks, brow furrowed in confusion. Then he notes the ring on her finger, the ring that he made, the one he'd been carrying in his pocket for nearly a month. His mouth goes dry. "Oh."

They must have given her his personal effects when stripping him down for treatment. It's not the perfect moment. He didn't even get to properly ask and he'd been quite looking forward to getting on his knees for her. But it rests, a soft white-gold, against her skin. She is wearing it. She's wearing _his _ring. His heart pounds too quick, too obvious, and the machine recording it speeds, the beeping loud and rapid.

"You...you will?"

She laughs, cradles his head. A quick kiss. "Yes," she tells him again. "Yes. Yes, of course I will." Another kiss, this one longer and more thorough. She wipes away his tears with her thumbs and he manages to lift an arm to cup the back of her head, holding her close.

"I love you," he says, swears it like a promise.

"I love you," she answers and then adds, with a too soft smile, "you idiot."

She tangles their fingers together and he relishes in the cool press of the band against him. It's not the perfect moment. He aches with pain and Chloe is pale with worry and lack of sleep. But it's them. It's remarkably them.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: Azrael just went to her dad, told her why she wanted the metal and who is was for, and, to her surprise, her dad just smiled and gave it to her.


End file.
